


Masks

by AssassinsAndAngels



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Companions, F/M, Friendship/Love, Masks, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:28:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24110587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AssassinsAndAngels/pseuds/AssassinsAndAngels
Summary: He had never seen her without the mask. It wasn't his business, really. But when she stumbles into Jorrvaskr half dead, wearing a different mask, he can't help himself.
Relationships: Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Vilkas, Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Vilkas
Comments: 8
Kudos: 66





	Masks

He had never seen her without the mask. 

‘Krosis’ was all she had said when he asked her. She had come to them with it on, and she hadn’t taken it off since. Whispers told him that it was a dragon priest mask, and that there were others being worn in different holds by a young woman. Everyone else thought they were different people. 

Vilkas knew better.

He saw another one once. She had pulled it out of her pack, sliding it into the drawers next to her bed. It was silver, and it hummed with magika. It didn’t take long for Vilkas to find out she wore it in Winterhold. 

It also didn’t take long for Vilkas to figure out what Krosis mean’t. ‘Sorrowful’ in Dragon tongue. He hated to admit it, but it was fitting for their harbinger. She never laughed, and the look in her eyes was always sad. After the discovery that she wore all the masks, he figured out that she was the Dragonborn as well. 

It explained the sorrow, and the secrecy. It explained why she was always all over Skyrim, and why he had caught sight of a small figure in what he could have sworn was a light brown mask in Riften. But that wasn’t his business. 

What was his business was when the harbinger stumbled into Jorrvaskr wearing the wrong mask in thieves guild armor, a long gash in her side. It was the middle of the night, and they weren’t expecting her back until morning. He was the only one up. 

Vilkas rushed to her side, he could hear her laboured breathing as she struggled to stay conscious. So he rushed her to her room, pouring a healing potion down her throat. He always kept one on him for situations like this. He never expected to have to use it on her. They didn’t say anything throughout the whole exchange. She fell asleep in the bed, and Vilkas watched over her, studying the mask. 

He didn’t dare take it off of her, but the more he studied it, the more he could see why she favored it in Riften. It masked her expressions even more than Krosis did, and he could hear her breathing being filtered in some way. He reminded himself to do more research on the masks when she was gone again. 

He sat there for hours, wrapping her wounds and pouring some of the potion down her throat if she sounded like she was in too much pain. Aela came in at one point, but she left the moment she saw the harbinger like she was. He was caught staring a few minutes after Aela left. 

“I suppose there’s no point in trying to convince you this is the same mask I always wear?” Vilkas chuckled. Of course that would be her first concern. She watched his reaction carefully, he could see it through the holes for her eyes. “But you knew already. You knew I kept more than one mask.” She sounded defeated. “You’re smarter than you look.”

“Aye, I am.” He said quietly. “You wear that one in Riften, and the silver one in Winterhold. I expect you have others for the other Holds as well.” She bowed her head, a gesture that cemented his assessment.

“Then I suppose the other companions know about who I truly am?” He tried not to be hurt by the fact that she thought he would give away her secrets without even telling her he knew. He failed. 

“Of course not.” He said defensively. “It wasn’t my business until you stumbled in here half dead.” She exhaled, a hint of laughter in the noise. It was the closest to laughter he had ever heard from her. 

“Yet you still did your research. Still went inquiring about it in Winterhold.” He couldn’t tell if she was annoyed or not. But then she sighed, sitting up. “This one’s Volsung. Found it in ruins near Solitude. That priest gave a nasty fight.” She pulled up her sleeve. “He gave me this.” It was a long, jagged scar. It looked as though it had been a burn once as well. Vilkas frowned. 

“You had to kill the priest?”

“It’s the only way to get the mask.” She reached into her pack and pulled out the silver one. “This one’s Morokei. It gives me benefits attuned to magic, so I wear it when I’m at the College.” Vilkas furrowed his brows. He didn’t know she took part in the College of Winterhold’s affairs. 

“You help them?” He asked quietly.

“I’m the arch mage.” She said seriously, and Vilkas couldn’t imagine her doing magic other than the occasional healing spell she had done in battle. 

“Leader of two groups, then?” Or were there more?

“Four, actually. But the other two aren’t quite in line with the Companions, and I can’t let you know all my secrets.” He could hear the smirk in her voice. He could assume that one was the Thieves Guild in Riften, why else would she be there almost as often as she was Whiterun? As for the other, he had no clue. 

“I assume you have more masks as well?” She nodded. 

“A few more Dragon Priest ones, and a daedric one.” She made no move to show them to him, and he decided that was okay with him. 

“Why have you never shown your face to us?” He asked in a whisper. He saw her stiffen up, and he could practically hear the wheels in her head turning. 

“You saw it. Once.” She said quietly. “So did Aela, Farkas, and Ria. As far as they know, I never took them up on their offer to join the Companions. As for you…” She trailed off, and his eyes widened. Aela and Farkas rarely agreed on who would make a good Companion, and there were only two times he had ever heard them agree. 

“Did you fell the giant, or the dragon?” He asked. He wasn’t quite prepared for her answer. 

“Both. Though they only saw my face for the giant. I was fresh out of Helgen then, coming back from my first job for the Jarl.” He was surprised. 

“So you are the Dragonborn then.” It wasn’t a question. She simply nodded. “What about me? When did I see your face?” He desperately wanted to know. He couldn’t quite place why, he just did. That scared him more than it should have.

“See if you can remember.” Was all she said before she reached and slowly lifted the mask up. She was an Imperial, and when she took her hood down he could see waves of dark brown hair cascading down her back. She had chocolate brown eyes, which were widened in what he could assume was uncertainty. There were scars that looked like claw marks across her face. They were big enough to be from a dragon.

Memories of a bright day three years ago flooded into him. He could see her as if it was yesterday, climbing the steps to the Gildergreen. She had bumped into him and squeaked out the meekest apology before looking at him and pausing with bright eyes. She didn’t have the scar then, and the ends of her hair were singed. It was two months later when she entered Jorrvaskr and demanded to see Kodlak, wearing the mask they had all come to know her by. 

“Having different faces makes it easier to separate my lives. If I get caught in Riften on a job, all I have to do is switch masks and come here.” She said nervously, and all of a sudden it was as if she was the young girl with the singed hair again. 

“I don’t even know your true name.” Was all he said. It was true, here they called her Krosis. She frowned suddenly. 

“No one knows it, save the Greybeards.” She said quietly. 

“I want to.” He said quietly. She looked up at him, and he couldn’t help but think about how beautiful she was. 

“It’s Astia.” She bit her lip, looking at him as if she expected him to laugh at her. He didn’t. 

“Astia.” The name rolled off of his tongue. “A beautiful name for a beautiful woman,” He said before he could stop himself. She blushed, biting her lip even harder. It was odd, seeing his harbinger act any way except confident and strong. It wasn’t bad, though. 

“I’m not sure I could classify myself as beautiful, but thank you anyways.” He began to protest, but she cut him short with a sharp look. He sat there for a moment, before once again letting his heart lead without his brain’s consent. 

“Let me show you how beautiful I think you are, then.” The words sounded all wrong, but they turned her around. “I mean- actually I don’t know what I meant.” He sighed, trying to let his brain catch up to what was happening. She moved closer to him. He made a split second decision then. He leaned in, pressing his lips to hers. 

She didn’t respond for a moment, and he was about to pull away and apologize when she snaked her arms around his neck and responded. Her lips were soft, and he could feel her melting into his touch. He pulled away after a few moments, and her eyes were wider than they had been before. 

“What was that for?” She asked quietly. He searched her face for any sign that she was upset, and after deciding she was not he answered.

“There’s a reason I tried to find out as much about you as I could.” He said quietly, and he watched her smile softly. 

“And there’s a reason I keep coming back here more often than anywhere else.” This time she leaned in, and he responded by pulling her closer. He pulled her up off her bed and into his arms and she pressed herself closer to him, smiling into the kiss. 

The next morning, Farkas and Aela had a lot to say about them keeping it down. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing something for this fandom, so I hope you all enjoyed! I would appreciate it if you left comments or Kudos if you did! <3


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